


Genderplay

by melonbutterfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Or perhaps he just likes wearing silky, smooth dresses and it's as simple as that.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Genderplay

John isn't actually transgender, he knows that. Or perhaps being transgender isn't as easy as it seems (and isn't that cruel, because it's anything but _easy_ ), perhaps it can be like sexuality, like being homosexual and heterosexual at the same time; perhaps, just like he's mostly heterosexual but a little homosexual as well, he's mostly male and only a little bit transgender.

Or perhaps he just likes wearing silky, smooth dresses and it's as simple as that.

The fact that they're Meredith's dresses, his wife and partner in any and all areas, might play a part in it as well (she likes wearing his clothes too, why should he not be allowed to like her clothes as well; only because he's male and she's female?), but he really doesn't think about it that much.

He's fairly lucky. Meredith has wide hips and a wide chest (big breasts, mostly) and, while she goes for the hourglass kind of figure, she has a nice soft belly, too impatient to worry about being slim or fitting somebody else's beauty ideas. It's impossible to say John likes anything about her best, because he likes everything about her (except the things he doesn't like, but that is not important in the grand scheme of things), but he loves her confidence and arrogant disregard of everything she doesn't acknowledge as reasonable.

And John is fairly slim in the hips and waist, so he can wear her dresses without worrying about stretching them out of shape; at least those that are stretchable, that is. Because for some reason, John can't quite be open about this; he hesitates calling it fetish, but perhaps that's what it is. He can't help it; there's some deeply rooted shame of this, a sense that this is wrong somehow that he can't shake. Logically, he knows that this is not bad, that especially in today's society it's really mostly accepted, he has the impression. Well, the institution he works for wouldn't be too happy with him, but it's not like he feels any need to go outside clad in a dress. He just wants to put them on sometimes; not even that often, never for long, just occasionally.

But he can't tell her. Logically, he knows she won't mind (the mere suggestion that she might actually leave him just because he likes wearing her dresses from time to time is completely ridiculous), but still. It's like there's a barrier in him, and he can't get over it.

John turns around and frowns as he looks at his backside, hugged by the soft, black cloth of Meredith's knee-long 'tame one' (all her dresses have some kind of title; John never wears 'John's favourite', because it's completely hers and he never wants to mess with that, never wants to look at her wearing it and think about anything but how hot she is; certainly not "I wore that", even if the follow-up thought would inevitably be "she looks way better in it"). He has absolutely no ass, Meredith always says, and when he wears her dresses, he can totally see what she means.

"You have absolutely no ass," she says right on the cue, and John nods absently and says "I know" before he catches up with the fact that she's actually here – she's standing in the doorway, and he didn't hear her, she isn't supposed to be here yet, and _why didn't he hear her_?

John freezes and stares her with what he's absently sure is a "deer-in-the-headlights" kind of expression. He really doesn't know what he expects, what he _should_ expect (for Meredith rarely does what's expected of her), and her expression is completely unreadable.

After a moment of them staring at each other, Meredith licks her lips and says, "But the colour really accentuates your eyes. I always liked you best in black."

He knows that. No matter how much she likes to joke about his "bordering on unhealthy obsession with the Man in Black, spilling over into a fangirly cosplay-like choice of clothes", they both know John wearing black in black makes her horny like her blue dress makes John horny.

John licks his lips as well and looks back into the mirror, and Meredith steps closer, stands next to him and looks as well. When their eyes meet in the glass, she raises one eyebrow and says, "Want me to get my eyeliner? It'd be hot."

Tilting his head a little, John thinks about it. It's not like he never imagined it, but never as more than an abstract idea; he's never really wanted it enough to actually do it, like the dresses. But he has never really wanted the dresses enough to buy them for himself or wear those of girlfriends whose shapes wouldn't have allowed for him to put them on without overstretching them, either.

And then Meredith narrows her eyes and purses her lips, looks at him with that kind of gaze that makes one feel like she's seeing right into their core. "You never really did that, did you?", she hazards, then shrugs before he can reply. "No matter. If you don't want to, that's fine, it's not like I'm too fond of it myself."

"Well," John says and realises that's the first time he speaks knowing she is there. "I wouldn't be opposed to try, some day." But now.

Meredith hears what she doesn't say and nods, looks him up and down again and then grins, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. "Well, I brought pizza, but you're not allowed to eat in that anymore than I am." She slaps him on the ass and cackles when he squawks, whirling out of the room and leaving him staring after her in something very much like adoration.


End file.
